


If I Could Run

by stargazingbros



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Everybody Hurts, F/M, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Possessed Sam Winchester, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unrequited Love, mostly from jo's perspective, this is angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 09:31:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14161848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargazingbros/pseuds/stargazingbros
Summary: Coda for the episode S2x14 "Born Under a Bad Sign". A week after he was possessed by Meg, Sam went back to Jo's bar to apologise and make things right with her. Reluctant and traumatised at first, Jo began to learn to trust Sam again. She also learned that they are quite similar to one another in ways she did not expect ..."How do you know this is the real Sam? You don’t."





	If I Could Run

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the March round of the Sam Creations Challenge on Tumblr. The theme of this challenge is "Sam's roles" and the prompt is "deserter". This story has been beta-ed by Bex! Thanks Bex!

Jo didn’t expect him to return so soon.

When she saw him at the other side of the empty bar, his unmistakeable tall frame under the dim lighting, she felt a stunning sense of déjà vu. The bruises on her arms had already faded, leaving the bump on her forehead the only reminder of their last encounter, but the fear was still the same. It was the same fear she had felt the night he assaulted her, reducing her to a damsel in distress, all the hunter tricks she learned into useless footnotes. It was still the same fear running through her then as the man made his way to her bar. All her instincts told her to grab for the rifle under the counter, but Jo remained motionless.

_It wasn’t Sam. He was possessed._

The man paused a few steps away, his face apologetic and reluctant. With his shoulders hunched, he looked almost like a child waiting for punishment. Jo’s mind kept screaming for the rifle.

_How do you know this is the real Sam? You don’t._

“I know I’m the last person you want to ever see again,” said Sam, his eyes gleaming, “But I’m here to make things right, Jo.”

With the sound of her name, suddenly her hunter instincts came roaring back to life. In one swift motion, she grabbed the rifle, cocked it, and aimed the barrel right between his eyes. Jo watched him jump back with his hands up, shock registering on his face.

She had a clean shot. All she needed was to pull the trigger.

 _My Daddy shot your Daddy in the head_.

Suddenly, she heard a loud yell followed by a rush of footsteps. She recognised the pair of green eyes looking at her in panic.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Jo! Stop! It’s him, it’s really Sam this time!” cried Dean, his own hands raised up.

As though Jo would ever shoot Dean.

Jo kept the gun raised, but she felt her body soften with relief. Dean had that effect on her. But she didn’t want to see him this soon either.

“How do I know both of you are not stuffed up with demons right now?” voiced Jo, finally.

Sam took a step closer, taking something out of his pocket. Jo still had her finger on the trigger, moist with sweat.

“That’s why we came,” said Sam, something shiny dangling between his fingers. “Anti-possession charms.”

 

* * *

 

The tiny charm nestled in her hand, looking like any other ridiculous trinket you could buy at a gift shop. It had a carved pentagram in the middle of the motif of a sun. This was supposed to keep her—them—safe? This tiny thing could stand in the way between her and some creature from hell wearing her body like a second-hand prom dress?

Jo stared at it until she heard the thud of a shot glass on the counter. She caught Sam’s eyes as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand from the demon-free cocktail of holy water and salt she’d made for them. Next to him, Dean also gurgled down the drink, grimacing at the taste.

“I know,” said Sam, his voice gentle as he motioned to the charm in her hand. “When I saw it, I didn’t think much of it either, but Bobby swears it works. And who knows better than Bobby?”

“It’s cute, I’ll give him that,” said Jo, immediately hooking it to her bracelet.

Sam then casually took a blade to his forearm and made himself bleed, proving he was in fact demon-free. Yet, there was still a thrill down the back of her spine whenever she looks at him that Jo couldn’t ignore. Maybe because the last time they laid eyes on each other, Sam had stuffed a tourniquet into her mouth, practically purring as he called her “a good girl”. It wasn’t something she could just erase from her mind; she wasn’t like Dean. It had taken days before she could finally work the night shift alone again. Still, the gun was a new addition. A precaution she should have taken if she was a real hunter. Maybe her mother was right: she wasn’t cut out for this and the Winchesters were the kind of folks she shouldn’t run around with.

“Are we good?” whined Dean. “I’m going to skip the blade, if you don’t mind. I already bled enough this week and I like to keep some of it in my body this time, please.”

“Yeah, we’re good. Thanks for dropping by, guys. Here’s something for the road,” said Jo. She grabbed two beers and presented them as peace offerings to Dean’s delight. Leaning closer, Jo peered at the men’s wrists. “I don’t see you two rocking the jewellery.”

“Oh, we got something better. Way more secure than that tiny thing,” Dean winked, before pulling the collar of his t-shirt down to reveal a sneak peek of a fresh black ink tattoo resembling the anti-possession design on his flushed skin, just underneath his collar bone. Despite herself, Jo could feel heat crawling up the nape of her neck. “Nice, huh? Sam’s got one, too.”

“You two have matching tattoos? That’s adorable.” Jo snorted.

“Like I said, we’re all good,” said Dean with a grin. “No demon will ever walk around in this meatsuit, I can guarantee you that!”

“Same with me, Jo,” said Sam but his words were devoid of the good-natured humour Dean wore easily. “You can trust me, too.”

Sam’s words lingered in the air, straining an already delicate situation. Sam looked earnest, almost pained. He kept staring at Jo like a puppy doing tricks, hoping for treats. But he was the same puppy that slammed her head against the counter last week, knocking her out cold. She could almost hear again the sound that her head had made when it made contact with the bar counter.

“Look, Sam—,” began Jo, not liking where the conversation was heading, but Sam was having none of it.

“Jo, what happened to you, what I did … I can’t leave here knowing that you’re not okay.”

“Whoa, let me stop you there, Sam,” Dean interrupted. “You didn’t do anything, alright? You were possessed. It was the demon bitch.”

“Exactly. And I’m okay. I’m fine!” snapped Jo. She flashed the brothers a desperate tight smile. She couldn’t force a faker smile if she tried.

“But you also almost shot my brother just now,” said Dean slowly, turning to Jo with his eyebrow quirked and his voice grave. “So, I’d put that down as ‘not fine’ and not something I want a repeat of again. Just saying.”

Jo felt her mouth go dry. She gathered the dirty glasses on the table and heaped them into the sink with more force than necessary. She was stalling. The night was a runaway train and she was an unwilling passenger. She could feel the boys’ eyes trailing her every move.

“What do you want me to say?” asked Jo, finally.

“Just hear me out, please,” pleaded Sam. Then in a quieter voice, “When I was possessed, I wasn’t in control of my body but I was awake during some of that time. I remember … some of the things that happened.”

Jo could feel her heart drop. A lot of things had been said between her and the possessed Sam—many she hoped she would never hear said aloud again. What happened between John and her dad. Between her and Dean. She felt helpless when the demon wound up her feelings like a musical box and relished her whimpers. She felt helpless still. The way she had been chasing after her dad and Dean, as though being close to one would make her feel closer to another.

_He thinks you’re a schoolgirl._

Her eyes flickered to Dean. Dean has always had expressive eyes but the only thing shining out of them now were guilt and pity—neither of the feelings she wanted from him. Yet, he could still read her like a book so Dean stood up, drank the last bits of his free beer and started his exit.

“I know a chick flick moment when I see one,” sighed Dean. “You two hash it out. I’m gonna wait in the car, Sammy.”

Dean was near the door when Sam called out, “Actually, Dean, don’t wait up.”

Jo and Dean shared a look.

“Are you sure?” asked Dean, which Sam answered in the affirmative.

Jo didn’t wait to hear the roar of the Impala’s engine before pouring herself a drink. Whatever conversation they would be having, being sober would not be part of it. Jo couldn’t shake the creeping sense of horrifying familiarity of this scene: the two of them talking to each other in that exact same spot. But the Sam she saw that night was predatory and reckless, that sometimes Jo blamed herself for not suspecting earlier that something was off. The Sam sipping quietly on his drink tonight was anything but that.

They sat side by side, stealing furtive glances at each other, waiting for the courage juice to kick in.

An hour passed by in silence.

Restless, Jo began to clean, putting away their drinks and wiping the counter clean. She started to flip the chairs onto the tables as per routine when she noticed Sam was doing the same to the next table. Sam raised his eyebrows at her, as though asking for permission, and she simply shrugged. If he wanted to do her work without pay, who was she to stop him? They weren’t doing much talking anyway. She began asking him to do more things: putting out the trash, lugging crates of inventory to storage and even handing him a mop while she kept herself busy. It was around 2 am before it occurred to her that this quiet tango she and Sam were doing, orbiting around each other, without coming close to the hurt they both shared, was becoming ridiculous.

Jo found him looking down intently at the tavern’s jukebox with a mop in hand. His plaid shirt was loosely tied around his waist, only wearing a thin undershirt now.

Jo let her eyes soak up the view, appreciating the curves of the man’s muscles rippling across his broad shoulders and down his arms. Jo had been so preoccupied with Dean’s devil-may-care attitude and cocky smile that she had never noticed that his brother was a fine specimen of a man himself. Pushing her piqued interest aside, it also dawned on her that maybe it wasn’t her fault that she found herself bruised and unconscious that night, that she was 5’4 with a thin frame and was unarmed against a man trained to be a hunter since birth. A man she still considered to be her friend.

“Got a song request you have in mind, Sam?” quipped Jo as she sauntered next to her companion. She popped a few quarters into the jukebox and watched as the machine come alive.

“Not really …” replied Sam, curious at Jo’s sudden friendliness.

“Great, because I know just the song we can listen to.”

It took a few seconds but the jukebox began to play the first few notes of The Who’s _The Crystal Ship_. In the glow of the jukebox, Jo watched as Sam’s face turned from curiosity to quiet horror. The mop clattered to the floor.

“This—this is the song that’s …”

“Yeah, the song the demon played that night,” said Jo, her mouth quirking to a wry smile. “Too bad, really, I actually kinda liked it. Now, whenever somebody keys in this song to play, I have to leave the room. Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“No, Jo, that’s the opposite of pathetic,” replied Sam. He closed the space between them, his lips quivering.

Jo could see his hands twitching by his sides, as though he wanted to hold her. She wasn’t sure if it was for her benefit or his. Jo was suddenly flooded with the desire for him to envelope her in his arms, to seek comfort in his warmth, but she wasn’t ready to put everything behind them, not yet.

“Sam, tell me what you remember. About that night.”

Jo watched him retreat, a pang of regret at their sudden distance. He paced away from her until he leaned back against a table with a look of resignation on his face.

“It was like … a long fever dream. I couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t. I could hear myself talk, watch myself do things, but it wasn’t me. And I could hear … her.”

“Her?”

“The demon. Meg. Dean exorcised her a few months back.”

“Wait, this was personal? This was revenge against Dean?” asked Jo, a nervous chill blossoming in the palms of her hands.

“Yeah. And it got a lot of people hurt. Like you,” said Sam, his voice raw with emotions. “I remember driving here—to this bar. I remember seeing you, hearing her talk to you in my voice. I could hear her _laughing_ in my head, feeling her go through my memories like it was nothing. And I couldn’t do anything about it, Jo. I felt so … helpless.”

Jo braced herself, her heartbeat quickened.

“And when Meg attacked you …” Sam struggled to continue, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the table. “When I saw you unconscious in my arms, I just couldn’t … I couldn’t do it anymore. I was too scared to see what she would do to you. What she would do to you … with my body. So, I ran. I ran to a quiet corner in my mind and hoped the horrible dream would be over. The next thing I know Meg was screaming in pain and I saw Dean.”

Jo didn’t realise she was holding her breath until she exhaled in relief and felt her body slam back against the jukebox.

_Sam doesn’t know about John and her dad._

Jo closed her eyes, grateful. Grateful that this pain inherited from both of their fathers would end with her. It was a secret Jo was willing to bring to her grave. But there was that matter about the conversation they had about Dean …

“Jo, why are you still here?”

Jo flared her eyes open, confused. Sam shook his head, his gleaming eyes seemed to be imploring her.

“What—”

“Why are you still here in this middle of nowhere bar? In freaking Duluth?” said Sam as he slowly made his way to her. “Go back to your mom. It’s not safe for you to be alone out here, not when Meg is still out there.”

Whatever goodwill Jo had felt towards Sam disappeared. Jo gritted her teeth, feeling her entire body becoming defensive, but all the comebacks she had stored at the back of her mind evaporated. She wanted to yell to his face with what she said to her own mother—to tell him that she was the daughter of two hunters and she could take care of her damn self. But it wasn’t true anymore, was it? Jo had a few fading bruises, the shiner on her forehead and a twinkling charm on her wrist as a reminder. She wasn’t just a damsel in distress, she had been bait.

Jo had an eerie sense of déjà vu.

 “I think you should leave, Sam,” said Jo, her piercing gaze daring him to move.

But Sam simply moved closer.

“When I told Dean to turn back, I said I wanted to make sure you’d be safe. I’m not backing out of that,” said Sam, his jaw twitching.

“Oh, what are you going to do, Sam? Tie me up again, put me in the backseat of the Impala and drive me back to the Roadhouse?” asked Jo, breaking into a mirthless laugh. “Better yet, how about you just follow me around after that? Watch me get a regular job, get married, have a stupid apple pie life!”

“Jo, you get a choice to leave this life. Not everybody gets that.”

“It’s not a choice, Sam! It was an ultimatum. It’s either I turn into a full-on civilian or nothing. I _choose_ nothing.”

“Ellen just wants you to be safe!” Sam paused, as though weighing the words in his mind, wondering if it was worth the pain he was about to inflict. “What happened with Meg—do you think that’s the last of it? That’s just a _taste_ of a life as a hunter. It will get worse—it always gets worse.”

Jo pictured her dying father, gurgling blood in his last few moments while John Winchester held a gun to his head as his final vision of his short life.

“What about what I want? Don’t I have a say in this?” Jo turned to Sam earnestly, her eyes brimming with tears. “Do you know what it feels like to be so close to something … and never get it?”

“I know _exactly_ how that feels,” said Sam through gritted teeth. “And trust me, if it’s not yours, it’s not yours. No two ways about it.”

“You don’t know _anything_ about me—"

“I WAS YOU, ALRIGHT? I ran away, too!” Sam exploded.

Jo had never seen Sam this way, a mix of anger and regret, not even when he was possessed. Sam paced around the room restlessly until he sat back down to the bar stool by the counter. He stared at the hardwood floor as he continued.

“All my life, I wanted nothing to do with hunting. Yeah, I wanted that stupid apple pie life—for years, in fact. And when the time came … I just left. I didn’t care what anybody said. I left Dean and my dad high and dry. Didn’t even prepare them for it. Pretended they didn’t exist throughout college. I was going to be a lawyer. I even had a girlfriend …”

Jo held her arms against her body, not even having words to say to Sam.

“Then, one day, a demon came and killed my girlfriend. And just like that, I’m sucked back into the life. It’s like I never left,” said Sam with a sad smile. “Except now, my dad is dead and the demon who killed everyone I loved is still out there.”

“Sam …”

“Truth is,” muttered Sam. “I envy you, Jo. I wish I had a way out and I never could.”

Jo plopped herself next to Sam. She could feel trepidation tapping against her spine, the chill in her palm throbbing. She felt like the night had come to its obvious conclusion.

“Sam, I know you think you pulled the short straw and, in many ways, you did. But I … never wanted a way out. I wanted a way _in_ ,” Jo continued before Sam could interrupt. “I grew up among hunters, Sam. Hunting is all I’ve ever known. Becoming a civilian means erasing my entire life, everything that means to me, into nothing. Even my Dad—especially my Dad. I can’t do that to him.”

Jo could hear Sam sigh, a signal of his defeat. Jo gulped nervously, wincing at the thought of what she was about to say next.

“And Sam, I have no one. But you … you have Dean. You will always have Dean. And I will always envy you for that.”

The minute the words left her mouth, she felt her cheeks burn. Jo felt like exactly what the demon called her: a schoolgirl. A silly flimsy toy in a world too harsh to accommodate her youthful fantasies. Jo looked at Sam, expecting pity or derision, but instead, his cheeks were reddening as well.

“You know,” said Sam, clearing his throat. “That night with the demon … she lied. I don’t actually know how Dean feels about you. We never really talked about it. You could still—”

Jo waved her hand at the suggestion.

“No, I already know. When the demon made him choose between saving me or watching me die, he still put his bets on you. He didn’t even know you were possessed then,” Jo shrugged. “I guess I don’t rank that highly on his list of favourite people, even if he is on mine.”

Sam thrummed his fingers on the counter agitatedly. Jo could see the wheels in his head turning, his brow furrowed. Sam looked as though he was harbouring a secret, one that he was about to reveal.

“Having Dean is not the same as … _having_ him, Jo,” said Sam slowly, refusing eye contact as he let the words sink in.

Jo quirked an eyebrow and snorted. “Well yeah, I know that but—”

“Like I said,” Sam muttered, “I know exactly how you feel.”

Jo stared at the man sitting next to her, unsure of what he had just admitted, when her eyes widened.

It hit her like a ton of bricks.

“You’re in love with Dean.”

She had expected him to laugh or balk, anything but rigid silence. When her insane but plain statement was met with no objection, Jo leaned back, staggered with the truth.

And yet, when she recalled back the handful of moments that they shared together, seeing the Winchester brothers in their element—whether driving down the streets while sitting in the backseat of their car or playing the thirdwheel when solving a case—she should have seen it. The way Sam seeks Dean’s attention, and Dean’s willingness to give it. The way they argue; Sam’s words can be biting at times but always from a place of affection. The way they always manage to stay physically close as though Sam couldn’t help himself. The way Sam looks at his brother when he’s not looking. The obvious adoration. She should have seen it but she was busy giving Dean the same looks.

“Does Dean know?”

Sam’s lips twisted into a pained smile. Jo wanted to pull him close then.

“Do you think we’d cross country together if he did? No. He has no clue,” Sam wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I wish I could blame hunting on this. That the life messed me up. But no, it’s all me. It’s all me,” Then with a bitter laugh, Sam turned to her, “Do you still want my life, Jo?”

Sam’s question reverberated in her mind and Jo wished she could say no. Jo wished both of them could say no, that no one deserved to have so much denied from them. She wished they both could run somewhere better where wanting something or someone didn’t feel like a punishment. But there was nowhere to run to—Jo should know.

However, having been raised in a bar, there was only one escape she knew was within reach. Jo went behind the counter and grabbed the best liquor this random tavern in Duluth, Minnesota, could provide. She never wanted to end the night sober and she planned to keep that promise.

“Come on, Sam Winchester, drink with me.”

They let time pass through them like the alcohol that flowed freely into their mouths. They laughed at jokes they wouldn’t remember minutes later, then stayed quiet in their own individual sadness. Somewhere in between, Sam stuffed a fistful of coins into the jukebox, letting the machine drown their thoughts. At first, they swayed apart to the music, but soon their bodies collided with another.

They found each other in the darkened tavern. They held onto each other to keep themselves from sinking in the empty within them. Jo wrapped tightly around Sam’s firm body, relishing the way his arms felt around her with his chin propped on the top of her head. It was strange to think that just days ago, Jo was fearful of him and yet, at that moment, Sam was what “safe” feels like. This was the real Sam. She knew now.

He was an oasis that she was willing to drown in, at least for the night.

Her hands began to travel up his body, hooking her fingers behind his neck. Sam’s mouth parted slightly, as though surprised but also intrigued. She wondered if he could feel her racing heart as she could with his. Jo stood on her tippy toes as she leaned up, her eyes gazing at his soft lips while her own was just inches away.

“I’m not Dean,” whispered Sam, stopping Jo in her tracks.

Without missing a beat, Jo replied, “I’m not Dean either.”

It was enough for Sam to close the gap between them, thrusting his lips against hers with his eyes closed shut. It felt like an escape.

The kiss was chaste at first but it opened up something within them—an almost insatiable desire. Jo moaned into his mouth, letting his tongue explore inside her. She could feel his large hands grabbing her back, hoisting her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her body melted against his, pliant to his desperate touches. They both staggered back to the counter of the bar, Sam hefting her up on it. They only stopped to breathe for air when Sam felt Jo’s hands undoing his belt. Heaving hard, Sam hesitated but his eyes were beaming with need.

“Are you sure?” asked Sam, pressing his forehead against hers as though he wanted to remind himself as well.

Jo answered by leaning back and pulling her t-shirt off her body, watching Sam’s hungry gaze washed over her. She pulled him by the nape of his neck for a hard kiss, her teeth nibbling his bottom lip.

“I want to forget, Sam. Make me forget.”

* * *

 

The ding of a tiny bell announced Dean’s arrival.

It was very early in the morning that the diner was empty save only a few people. Dean had never been a morning person but he had a restless night by himself in their motel room. He had spent the remainder of the night watching television until he fell asleep on the couch, his phone never too far from reach. Every instinct in his body didn’t want to leave his little brother alone with Jo, especially when she had pulled a gun on them just moments earlier. He even had a piece of mind to stay back, maybe watch their rendezvous stealthily and from afar, just in case things went south. But he knew Sam—he knew this was important for him to regain his sense of self again after what happened with Meg. If Sam wanted to go on an apology tour to make himself feel better, Dean was happy to oblige.

So, when Sam messaged him, inviting him to join them for breakfast, Dean jumped immediately. Surely, that was a sign that everything went well? Early breakfasts are a good thing.

Dean was about to give Sam a ring when he heard peals of laughter from one of the dining booths. It sounded familiar. Then, he spotted them deep in conversation while pawing at a shared plate of French fries. He could see Sam giggling at whatever Jo was saying, both completely at ease. A total stranger could draw the conclusion that they were a couple. Dean wondered if he should just head back to the motel when Sam spotted him and waved him over.

“Speak of the devil,” said Sam with a beaming smile. “Come on, take a seat, Dean.”

Dean quirked his head. “You’ve been talking about me, Sammy?”

“Don’t worry, Dean, nothing incriminating.” Jo winked. “Actually, I’m heading out soon, I’m just gonna slip to the bathroom real quick.”

As Dean took her place and watched Jo leave, Dean immediately turned toward his brother. Sam was happily eating pancakes, ignoring his brother’s penetrating stare. Whatever happened last night, it completely flipped both Sam and Jo’s attitudes since Dean last saw them. In fact, there was a certain rosiness to Sam’s cheeks.

“So, I take it last night went well …” Dean began, baiting Sam to fill in the details. “Maybe a little too well?”

Sam smirked at his brother, almost relishing Dean’s curiosity. “You can say that.”

“Did you guys …” Dean let his words trail as he did a crude gesture with his hands. Sam almost choked on his pancakes in response.

“I hope you’re not saying what I think you’re saying, Dean,” said Jo, sauntering to their booth with a raised eyebrow.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” mumbled Dean, shoving his hands guiltily under the table.

 “Anyway, I have to go. I’ll see you all later, I hope. Don’t be a stranger now,” said Jo. Then she turned to Sam and, in a more tender tone: “I’ll keep it in mind, Sam.”

Dean was careful to make sure Jo had walked out of earshot before turning to Sam.

“Keep what in mind?”

“I told her to go back to Ellen. It’d be safer for her to have someone watch her back,” said Sam simply, returning to his breakfast. “I think it worked.”

“How did you convince her, exactly?” asked Dean, grinning as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Through talking. A lot of talking, Dean. Nothing else.”

“Sam, it’s fine if you two banged, we’re all adults here—”

“Really?” asked Sam, his tone suddenly serious, “You’d be fine with me and Jo, together?”

Dean shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with Sam’s questioning stare. He had only been poking fun at his brother but Sam’s question seemed to hint at something more.

“I mean, sure, why wouldn’t I be? Okay, me and Jo did have a little flirtation going on for a while,” Dean shrugged nonchalantly, “But nothing came out of it, so if you want to slide right in there—go ahead, brother. Be my guest.”

Sam simply nodded and looked down at his food, decidedly less interested in his pancakes than minutes before. If Dean didn’t know better, Sam seemed almost disappointed in his answer. But Dean knew better. Sam was probably overthinking again; his nerdy little brain couldn’t resist to conjure problems where there weren’t any.

“Well, nothing happened, Dean. I don’t know what else to tell you,” mumbled Sam, scratching his neck absentmindedly, when Dean spotted something.

Just hiding underneath the collar of his shirt was an unmistakable hickey.

The brothers had spent so much time together in tight quarters that Dean was more aware of his brother’s body than most siblings. The hickey was definitely not there before. Dean opened his mouth, wanting to protest or tease further, when he immediately stopped himself. Instead he called for the waitress to bring the menu, flirting with her for good measure. Maybe he didn’t want to know what was going on in his brother’s brain. Maybe it was for the best.

 


End file.
